Take out the Trash
by Uncle Charlie
Summary: It takes a special breed to comb through UNCLE's trash to make sure the world was kept safe. Part of the Working Stiffs series.


When you tell people you work in the trash industry, they immediately make a snap judgement about you. They think you probably dropped out of high school, have the IQ of a cockroach and sit around at night in a dirty tee shirt, torn pants and drink beer, in between hitting your wife and sleeping with your best friend's girl.

The truth of the matter is that I have a masters in accounting, listen to classical music and prefer Italian wines over French, except for Bordeaux wines. They are hard to beat. I wear a suit and tie daily and I have never hit a woman or gone behind a friend's back. And, yes, I work in the trash industry.

I didn't mean to, but I sort of accidently decided to take a break from accounting. I happened to be going through the trash one day and discovered my boss was cooking his books and I turned him in. Of course I lost my job and suddenly, I couldn't get a job, which made me feel very uneasy, to be honest… which I suspect many of my employers might not be.

My folks were both proud and annoyed with me. Proud because they'd raised me to do the right thing. Not so proud because without a job, I might have to move back home. My brother, well, they kept his room as a shrine. My room, well, that my mom turned into a sewing room before the dust settled. I wasn't The Golden Child…

I wasn't sure what I was going to do. One day I was sitting in the park, minding my business and then this little old man sat down beside me and changed my world. I went from numbers to trash and never looked back. The truth was that what people threw away always fascinated me. I mean, what made a piece of paper trash to one person, and a valuable commodity or cherished memory to someone else?

I work for UNCLE, and I guess you could say I'm a trash sterilizer. I, along with my hale and hardy team members, shift through UNCLE's trash, ensuring that what is being thrown out is truly trash and not something that could bring around the end of the world as we know it. Seriously, that's how the job was peddled to me.

I figured it was all talk. Little did I know that they were telling the truth about the job. The last guy had let something slip and not only did it end up being a mess to clean up, some good men died in the process, including him when he tried to fix his mistake. I was determined that it wouldn't happen to me.

UNCLE treated its most sensitive documents with a special chemical that triggered an alarm if anyone tried to take them from the building. That's not the stuff we are worried about. It's the small things, a phone number, a hastily scrawled address or a business card. These all have to be shredded and burned. Most of the employees are pretty good, but everyone has a bad day and a moment's distraction can lead to bad things, as my former employer discovered.

We have a nice complex on a lower level and for the most part, we are left to ourselves. We aren't told we couldn't intermingle with everyone else, it's just after being shunned in the Canteen and given 'the look' in the john, we tended to stay put. We have our own break room, facilities and lounge. As a group, we get along okay, so the days wander by without one being very different from another – usually.

I don't know if it was a full moon or what, but this particular Tuesday, people were acting nuts. I was nearly accosted on the bus because I gave up my seat to one woman and not another. An old man yelled at me for being poorly dressed and two kids tried to lift my wallet. They got a severe reprimand and a warning that the next time, I'd bring the entire police force down on them. All this and it wasn't even eight a.m. yet.

"Morning, Samuel." My second-in-command was a lovely woman by the name of Gertrude. She hated her name, so we called her Maxie, I don't know why. James and AJ were already up to their elbows in last night's collection. It was a sizable pile, but it made sense. January seemed to be the month that everyone cleaned out their files and desks, out with the old and all that.

"Hey, everyone, anything exciting?"

"Just the usual. Don't the agents ever eat at home? I am so tired of shredding take out menus." AJ was the closest to me in age and very frugal. He would no more go out to eat than fly to the moon. Of course, he and his wife had just had twins, so it made sense.

"Hell, when are agents home long enough to shop and cook for themselves?" As usual, Maxie had it right on the money.

I took my chair to the work table and pulled up an armful of paper. It was the usual stuff, some receipts that we set aside for bookkeeping, bus schedules for Amsterdam, an appointment card for some hair salon on 9th, tickets for a show with a phone number on the back of one, a brochure for Hawaii, Maxie tucked that one away for herself, and the like.

One piece of paper, in itself, wasn't much crumpled up, but as I flattened it out, I gasped.

"What's wrong?" James was the 'old man' of our group. He was all of forty.

I held it up for him and the others to see. _Destroy UNCLE_ was surrounded by cartoon bombs, explosions and knives.

"Someone is upset."

"Must have seen his paystub," Maxie murmured. "Do we know what section it came from?"

AJ consulted the chart. We are very careful to make note of where things came from. "Section Two."

"What?" I was gobsmacked. They are our backbone, the guys on the front line. I couldn't believe it.

"Anything else?" James was eyeing the pile greedily.

I gestured to it. "Be my guest."

By the time we finished, we had a pile of five similar pieces of paper, all calling for the downfall of UNCLE, along with suitable illustrations.

"Okay, any idea where in Section Two these came from? Junior or Senior?"

"Senior."

"This is getting worse by the minute."

That's when we heard the voices.

"Can't you let it go, Napoleon?"

"I can't. It's too important. If word of this got out… it would be all over for me." I guessed whoever spoke was addressing Napoleon Solo as he was the only one I knew of besides the other guy.

"I warned you." The voice sounded annoyed and just a little nervous.

"I know. It just… it was so tempting."

They turned the corner and the pair slammed to a stop, literally. The unknown speaker was Solo's partner, Illya Kuryakin and he plowed into Solo so hard, he nearly knocked the man from his feet.

"Oh, you're already here." Solo's focus was on the pile of paper that sat before me. "Hi." He held up a nervous hand. "How are you?"

Maxie casually dragged more paper towards her, effectively burying the suspect notes. Neither man seemed to notice.

"We're fine, Mr. Solo. How are you?"

"Napoleon is very anxious to find something that he shouldn't have thrown away."

My first thought was, _Oh my god, his partner is in on it with him._ The two top agents and they were working for THRUSH. Mr. Waverly was going to be devastated.

"What are you looking for?"

"Um…" Now Mr. Solo went from looking nervous to almost embarrass. "I… that is to say… well…"

I could see that James was edging closer to the phone and the emergency call button there. All he was waiting for was a nod from me.

"Mr. Solo lost an appointment card for a beauty salon and he doesn't-"

"Not exactly," Solo interrupted, glaring at his partner. "I know, but I wasn't sure of the address."

"Or the time or the date," Kuryakin finished. "It's not a crime to have a touch up, Napoleon." Kuryakin smiled then. "At least not for those who don't have your reputation."

"This is all about a dye job?" Maxie was amazed. "I will never understand men."

"Me, either," Kuryakin admitted. "Anyhow, if you see an appointment card, let us know."

"Please," Solo added. "And now I'd like to get a look at what you were trying to hide, Miss Schillings."

"What? I don't know what you are talking about."

"Don't try to kid an old kidder, ma'am." Solo was there in two steps and his eyes were stern, all business, even while his lips smiled.

"It's okay, Maxie."

"I thought your first name was Gertrude?" Kuryakin looked confused now.

"Long story." She passed over the sheets and the pair studied them. Kuryakin pulled out a pair of black rimmed glasses and held one closer.

"I can see your concern…" Then a light bulb went on. "You didn't think that I…?"

"Honestly, sir, we didn't know what to think."

"Handwriting, Illya?"

"None that I know of, which is unusual. That tells me that whoever did this purposely altered their handwriting."

"So we have a rogue agent in our midst, but who?"

Kuryakin started reciting a list and Solo shook his head with each name. "I just don't know, Napoleon. What do we do?"

Solo looked over at me, then Maxie and he grinned, "I think I have a plan, but I'm going to need your help."

"Whatever we need to take this bastard down… sir," she answered. I decided at that point she needed a raise.

Maxie looked back at me and Illya and I nodded. She linked arms with Napoleon and they walked into the Canteen. We followed at a respectful pace, arms not linked. We weren't looking for that sort of attention. Immediately the conversation faded and then started back up. Napoleon led Maxie to a table and bowed.

"Show off," Kuryakin muttered, but I could see him smiling. I headed to a table in the corner as he joined the line. A few minutes later he returned with coffee and a pile of sweet rolls.

I grinned. "I actually prefer the doughnuts." And I swear he blushed.

"These are mine," he admitted rather guilty.

"Good man." I clapped him on the shoulder and went to get my own. It didn't surprise me that all but one of the sweet rolls was left. The man is an eating legend.

"I'm just telling you what I saw!" Maxie's voice carried over the buzz of the regular conversation.

"Keep your voice down." Napoleon looked around, grinning anxiously.

"If you don't think this is important, maybe Mr. Waverly will."

"Maxie, you know what we discussed last night."

"Someone is gunning for UNCLE, Napoleon, and that precludes pillow talk."

Oh dear lord, that was going to start the tongues wagging.

"Samuel, what are they talking about?" Illya's question seemed truly genuine.

"Didn't you hear?" I looked around and leaned closer. "I feel like an idiot."

"I frequently do as well." He sat back and seemed to consider what I said, then leaned in again. "Are your men ready?"

"They are." Like all of UNCLE employees, we knew how to use the weapons we were issued. "Boy, look at Maxie and Napoleon go!"

Just as I said that, Maxie got to her feet in a huff. "Forget it, Napoleon, I'm not covering for Section Two this time. I'm going to Mr. Waverly!"

She stormed out, but managed to get a wink off to me. "I'd better go calm her down before she does something crazy." It was just as well. Illya was eyeing my doughnut.

Immediately, we headed back to our little refuge and joined our friends. Napoleon and Illya were on our heels

My guys were all ready. We'd even devised a secret knock. Maxie grinned at me as she knocked and AJ let her in.

"Are we all set?"

"Um, Napoleon, may I ask a question?" AJ asked, his voice strangely subdued. "What happens if shooting starts?"

"You four hightail it for whatever cover you can find. Let Illya and me take the brunt of it." He looked over at his partner and smirked. "In a manner of speaking."

"That wasn't my fault."

"That time."

These two guys argued like they were an old married couple. "What should we do now?"

"You just go about your business and we will lurk in the background." Napoleon actually seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Think of us as furniture," Illya added. "A chair or a table."

"Or a big king size bed with satin sheets just waiting for a girl to…" Maxie trailed off then, her cheeks stained bright red. "I really said that out loud, didn't I?"

Napoleon laughed. "I like you, Maxie, I really do."

The seconds ticked to minutes ticked to an hour. We just went back to work, shifting through the trash of UNCLE.

"This is what you do for a living?" Illya sounded almost envious. It was funny how they'd gone from names to superiors to fellow employees in the course of an afternoon.

"Yup, rain or shine, we sit here, listen to music and live vicariously." I flipped over a postcard and frowned. "This is weird. Who sends a post card to someone at UNCLE?"

"Someone who wants to rub salt into a wound." Illya glared at Napoleon, who shook his head slowly and pointed a finger at him.

"It wasn't my idea to take that vacation. Waverly insisted. Next time you will use less gunpowder and be able to join me."

" _Having a miserable time. Went twice to the park, south right and seven times to the zoo left—"_

"Zoo left?"

"Left out a period, I bet _. Left a bundle behind, but fourtune,_ what a lousy speller, _was right and it was weighting for me."_

Illya was frowning. "Let me see that." He had his handkerchief and glasses out.

I passed it over and went back to work. There was a sudden noise outside the door and the muscles of my stomach clenched. Napoleon jerked his head to one side and we scattered as Illya dimmed the lights.

A shadowy figure crept in slowly, then stumbled against a garbage pail. A short curse and then,

"Where would they be?"

"Looking for something, Ethan?" Napoleon flicked on the lights. The man spun, but had the common sense not to reach for his weapon. Of course, the huge cast on his arm didn't help either.

"Na, na, Napoleon. Hi." Whoever Ethan was, some Section Two, I guess, looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him up.

"Hello. Suppose you tell me what's going on."

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Make me believe you." Napoleon's smile was tight. "Or better yet, make Illya. He's the one you really have to worry about."

The man's face went gray and his knees buckled. A second later he hit the floor.

I can out from behind my desk. "You have a Section Two who faints?"

Illya adjusted his lapels and looked smug. "I do have a certain reputation." He knelt and propped the man up, slapping the slack cheeks. "Wake up, Ethan."

It took a minute or two, but the man blinked and cringed when he saw who supported him. "Oh, god, don't hurt me."

"What are you?" AJ stared at Illya as he helped the man to a chair.

"Known," Illya muttered. To his fellow agent, he said. "Talk to me, Ethan. Tell me why I shouldn't have everyone leave the room for ten minutes." He pushed the sheets of paper to the agent. "What are these?"

Ethan looked beseechingly at Napoleon. "It isn't what it looks. I was… oh, man… I was mad because my girlfriend and I were getting ready for a trip when this happened." He indicated his arm. "The surgeon won't release me to fly yet, so I called the travel agency and they said they couldn't change the date because it was a special deal and they wouldn't refund the money because it was a non-refundable ticket. Finance couldn't help me… my girlfriend is threatening to leave me and I was going to propose… I was mad at UNCLE for getting me into this."

"They wouldn't refund your money because of a work-related injury?"

"No."

"What about the hotel?"

"They won't even talk directly to me, just the travel agency." He sighed. "I was doodling while I was on the phone. I was angry and frustrated and disappointed." His voice cracked. "Now because of a stupid courier mission, I've lost a trip, a huge chunk of money and my future wife. Can you understand?"

"Yeah," Napoleon said softly. "I can."

"I mean, all I have left is UNCLE. I'd do nothing to change that."

"Sorry to hear you say that." There was a voice from the door and another man stood there, except this one held a weapon, a massive rifle that looked like it could take out a tank. "I believe you found something of mine."

"Hello, Nate, what brings you here?" Napoleon's hand was moving casually towards his pistol.

"Stop right there, Napoleon, unless you want your suit air conditioned. You should know what I'm looking for. You screamed about it at the top of your lungs in the Canteen with your latest bimbo."

"She's not a bimbo!" AJ started to run towards Nate and he fired. Illya leapt into the air, tackling AJ and crying out in pain as he landed.

Napoleon took a step towards Illya and the gun returned to point at his midsection. "My property, Napoleon, or the next one goes into his head."

"What are you talking about?" Ethan sounded confused. "It was my stuff Napoleon was going on about."

"What?"

Ethan held up a sheet of paper. "These."

Nate made a face. "That's really a shame. Now, I'm going to have to kill all of you."

"We won't say anything," I said and he smirked.

"I'm sure you won't." He raised the rifle and aimed. "Say good bye."

There was a gunshot and I hunched over like I was sucker punched, terrified of the white hot pain in my stomach… except nothing happened. I wasn't shot. Nate crumpled to the floor.

Maxie stepped from around the desk and glared. "Good bye." She lowered her pistol and walked to the man, kicking his weapon out of reach.

"Nice shooting, Tex," Napoleon said, as he joined her.

"Nobody calls me a bimbo." She gave the groaning man a kick. "Nobody."

It all turned out for the best. Nate was eventually sentenced to wherever they send UNCLE enemies. I hear it's so awful that it doesn't even have a name.

Napoleon worked some kind of magic and managed to not only get a full refund for Ethan, but he rebooked it through UNCLE travel and they gave him the trip of a lifetime. We just got their wedding invitations in the trash. It seemed appropriate.

Maxie and Napoleon went on a couple of dates, but she said he was all talk and no show. I was glad because it made me realize that I looked at Maxie not just as my second in command and a good friend, but something a bit more. We are happily dating and when I made a joke about making it a double ceremony, Maxie didn't seem unhappy about the thought.

Sometimes trash is just trash, but other times, you can find heaven in it.


End file.
